


Fiscal Year

by cendri (crankyoldman), drakonlily (krayxlidlon)



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 22:56:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankyoldman/pseuds/cendri, https://archiveofourown.org/users/krayxlidlon/pseuds/drakonlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veld sometimes wished that he and Valentine could switch places. Though when he is focused, Valentine can be horribly distracting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fiscal Year

Fiscal Year

He always figured that accounting knew their stuff. Veld never did get numbers that well and the book in front of him looked like what he imagined hell to be like. Spidery and scrawling.

"You have got to be kidding me."

He'd said that before, nearly two hours ago when he figured out that they weren't kidding when they said that the Turks didn't exist. As far as the financial records went, they were an "extra expense". Which meant accounting didn't handle them like other departments. It was the end of the fiscal year and ShinRa had dumped the books right on Veld's desk and told him that he was in charge of balancing them.

He banged his head on his desk. "That's it. I'm dead. I quit."

He imagined what it would have been like if he were a slacker. Not the leader, just some bum kid that got by on good looks and good aim.

Veld grinned to himself. Of course.

Vincent didn't bother to lock up any of his drawers, so the bottle of whiskey was easy to locate after a little shuffling around. The pack of cigarettes taped just under the desktop was also easy to locate.

He poured himself a drink, loosened his tie, and waited for the owner of said desk to finally come into work. Maybe he'd find a light and try out those deathsticks that he was always puffing at.

The door opened, it was the sort of door that usually pushed back closed, like a spring load. And so, the stunned owner of the whiskey got smacked in the face when he stood there, shocked.

After the "oof" and pushing back on the door, Vincent Valentine tilted his head to the side. "Ah... Velly?" He'd had the interesting job today, his tie was on, but loose, there was a burn mark on part of his suit and an almost careless, artistic sort of blood splatter about his shirt. Messy hair bobbed in front of his eyes. "You... alright?"

"Course I am, why would you doubt that?" Veld had finally gotten the darn cigarette lit and inhaled, only to immediately proceed coughing.

Vincent let the door lock behind him and strode over to his desk. "You should let it roll out of your nose first. Don't take it all in your lungs right away... and why are you smoking my cigarettes and drinking my booze?"

"Because I can?" He propped his feet on the desk before taking Vincent's advice with the cigarette. Kid was right, he didn't cough this time.

"I came to see if you needed help with work." Vincent smirked, though if it was because he was amused or if it was because he was thinking of things he could do in the situation, Veld couldn't tell.

"Should probably tell you, then." Veld gestured about with the cigarette. "You're leader."

Vincent smirked. "Oh hell no, Velly. That's your job. But I could help you out." He flicked open another pack of cigarettes, lit up then strode over to the desk where he sat on the same corner Veld usually sat on. "So tough." He pointed with the cigarette and snagged the whiskey

"What's up your ass then?" He asked, tossing his head back and taking a long swig.

He had to snort at the choice of wording. "Take a look at what's on my desk."

Without getting up, Vincent swiveled his head about and looked. "Eh... looks like books."

If Veld didn't know that cigarettes were dangerous, he could get used to them. "That's all of this year's financial records for the department. I was told to balance them in two days." He leaned his head back to blow some smoke. "So I said 'fuck it' and am lounging about like you normally do. It's not a half bad perspective."

And another drink. "Boss."

"I'm not getting paid the big bucks, Sir." Vincent smiled sweetly as he could, though it tended to make him look a little unhinged and homicidal. "So there's no reason for me to take your position. I can help you, but I sure as fuck am not you."

Veld snubbed the cigarette out on Vincent's ill-used typewriter. "Alright. I need you to pull a miracle then, because I sure as hell don't understand those numbers."

Vincent snickered. "I suppose." Putting his own cigarette out, Vincent took another swig of the fifth, handed it to Veld and pushed the on button on the back up coffeepot. He then slid behind Veld, reached over and dug into a slightly hidden drawer.

"You suppose? Listen, I don't get this done I'm out of a job." Veld was ignoring the fact that Vincent was far too much in his personal space. Maybe he shouldn't have drank so much so early.

Vincent's breath was hot across the back of his ear. "Relax, Velly... I got this." Vincent snagged a case from the drawer and slid it up to the breast pocket of his suit. A second later his hands closed around Veld's shoulders and he rubbed roughly for a moment before leaning forward again and muttering "Chill out."

He then promptly let go and plopped at Veld's desk. He sat the case on the corner and flipped open a few books before settling on one.

At that point, he looked around, sighed, and pulled a black framed pair of glasses from the case and got to work.

He took him a few minutes for his brain to catch up. "...You have glasses?"

"My reading problem translates to some vision issues when I'm looking at handwriting or typing." Vincent ripped a page out crossed items out, and bit at his lip a moment before going back to work.

"Interesting." Veld realized then why Vincent spent so much time distracting him from work. Well, maybe not exactly why, but close. He loosened his tie a little more.

"I'm not really fond of them." Vincent responded in a distracted tone. "Velly, can you grab me a cup of coffee?" He flipped another page.

Was he getting ordered around? Well, if he was, it was apparently working, as he was up and out of the seat before his mind could catch up. He poured the cup and then stood over Vincent with the steamy mug.

"Thank you." Vincent was a quick worker when it came to numbers at least. He'd somehow gotten five pages down to half a notebook's worth of ledger. And there was a large column that stated "If you knew, we'd have to kill you."

Veld leaned a little on the desk once the coffee was safely set down. "Want to take a break?"

"In a moment, Veld." Vincent's eyes flicked up and looked Veld over twice in a slow, rather appreciative manner. "I'm working."

In a moment? Veld covered half of one of the pages with his arm as he leaned further on the desk. "I asked if you wanted to take a break."

"I heard you the first time." Half the book down.

Oh he did not. Veld flipped the book closed with a quick motion. He then gave Vincent a look before whispering something distinctly unprofessional in his ear.

"Now I thought, that I had work to do." Vincent smirked, leaning his elbows on Veld's desk.

"It's not going anywhere."

\---

It now became a little more obvious to Veld why they had a couch bed in the office. And he hoped no one would care about the newly broken leg.

It was decidedly less tense now, though Veld's throat and other parts of his anatomy were sore. And his back was cold. Vincent was not doing his job as a heating pad...

"Aren't you cold?" Veld rasped.

"A little... want coffee?" Vincent had gone through two more books and was poking at a third one from the looks of things.

"I guess." Vincent was probably the only person he knew that could do accounting in his boxers.

Veld could hear the cups get sat down. Vincent must have found a tray or scooted the coffee table over to make a nightstand. Then he could feel Vincent slide back into bed behind him. "I think I'm done for the night..."

It wasn't night. Even if they had no windows in this office, he knew that. He didn't feel like arguing, as he was much warmer now.

"You can finish up tomorrow."

At least Veld finally got the message across to the younger kids that if the door was closed he was not to be disturbed.


End file.
